


Jet Lagged

by whatkindoftea (haeli)



Category: DBSK|Tohoshinki|TVXQ
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 16:44:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haeli/pseuds/whatkindoftea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Milan is beautiful in July, but Changmin is too tired to enjoy anything but Yunho.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jet Lagged

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WennyT](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WennyT/gifts).



> Because she just wrote her GRE and wanted to walk out to some ridiculous homin porn. Congrats on totally killing it, love!!

“You two have about an hour and a half before we take you down to get changed for the second half of the shoot,” one of the staff members informs them from just outside their hotel door.

 

“We’ll be down in an hour,” Yunho assures the man, gripping the frame to keep himself upright. Changmin frowns and takes a half step towards the older man, hands itching to push him into the red armchair next to the window. Or better yet, onto one of the two queen sized beds.

 

Without another word, the staff member leaves and the door shuts, leaving Yunho staring at the dark wood and Changmin staring at Yunho.

 

“I don’t even know if I’ll be able to read a clock in an hour,” Yunho says quietly, more to himself than Changmin, but the younger man hears it loud and clear. He takes the last two steps until his hands rest placatingly on Yunho’s shoulders.

 

“Come here,” he draws Yunho away from the door and into a hug. They both feel the aching, hideous tiredness of concert after concert, flight after flight. It blurs everything, slowing limbs and words and dulling sight, taste, and touch. Changmin doesn’t know if he’s supposed to be at rehearsal in forty hours or at practice in twenty. For all he knows, it could be both.

 

“I just want to sleep for the next three days,” Yunho confesses, head shaking minutely, nose pressing into the soft skin at Changmin’s throat. His words are hot little breaths, and Changmin shivers.

 

An ugly sense of satisfaction trails down Changmin’s spine - he’s the only person who gets to see Yunho like this, the only person who gets to hear the quiet and exhausted insecurities that bubble up to the surface.

 

“I want to sleep for five,” Changmin walks them backwards, until his legs hit the edge of the first queen bed.

 

“Always so greedy,” Yunho lifts his head with a grin that’s thin around the edges, and Changmin brushes his hands over Yunho’s hips, thumbs scratching at the soft cotton of a deep green shirt.

 

“Do you want to nap?” Yunho sighs and glances at the bed, a little hesitant.

 

Changmin wants to fall into bed and not move until he’s forcibly removed by their manager. He wants to go wander around this city with Yunho like they’re actually on vacation together, and see the places they spend hours in a plane for - he’s tired of dressing rooms and barricades and more airports, and not enough architecture and food.

 

Mentally, Changmin adds Milan to the long list of places like Paris and New York and Singapore, that they’ll come back to one day when there’s more time.

 

“If I try to sleep, you won’t be able to get me out of bed without loss of life,” Changmin says instead, fingers tracing the top of Yunho’s black pants, smiling when he feels the muscles tense and jump beneath his finger tips.

 

“Oh,” Yunho sounds distracted, and Changmin knows he’s going to get his way. Like always. “Well then I’m out of suggestions. Your turn.”

 

“You’re going to fuck me,” Changmin says simply. Yunho blinks twice, a slow smile breaking through the blanked-out expression he’d been sporting since leaving Northern Europe.

 

“Okay,” Yunho breathes, tension leaving his shoulders, and he pushes Changmin backwards.

 

This is easy, Changmin thinks as he settles on the bed and pulls Yunho over him, lips trailing over his chin and up to a full bottom lip. Taking care of Yunho is something he could do in his sleep.

 

Their kiss is lazy and slow and just messy enough, Changmin licks into Yunho’s mouth, stealing exhales, and Yunho pushes against Changmin as the heat ratchets up. Yunho’s mouth is open and hungry, chasing Changmin back against the pillows as he pushes into the crux of Changmin’s legs, grinding down just a little too rough, uncoordinated, and Changmin wants more. He shoves up to meet Yunho’s rutting, eyes fluttering shut when Yunho slides a hand beneath his shirt.

 

Yunho’s hand is cold, his hands always are, and Changmin arches into the touch, shivers raking down his body as Yunho teases his chest beneath the light cotton.

 

“S’good,” Changmin mumbles, hips still working up against Yunho, thighs pressing into the older man’s hips.

 

“Take it off,” Yunho asks, voice quiet in the small European room, eyes dark and words heavy with tiredness and need.

 

The shirt comes off, and Yunho’s mouth follows his hands, slowly teasing bites into Changmin’s skin. Each mark pulls a breathy gasp, and Changmin can’t stop himself, all hope of controlling his reactions gone with the meager three hours of sleep he got last night. Yunho bites and plays, until Changmin’s train of thought is a mantra of Yunho’s name, babbled into the room as Yunho continues his torture until it’s too much.

 

Yunho’s hair is getting long, it wraps around Changmin’s long fingers as they thread through the reddish locks, and Changmin pulls Yunho’s mouth back up to his, and muffles his moans against the older man’s lips. The cotton of Yunho’s shirt is soft and unbearable against Changmin’s skin.

 

“Now you,” he pulls at the fabric, shaking as Yunho digs his fingers into his sides, tracing ribs and sucking another mark into the base of his neck that will smart tomorrow, but Changmin basks in the attention as he yanks at Yunho’s top. The shirt comes off with a struggle, and Changmin gives himself half a moment to appreciate the expanse of skin on display for him. Those hours at the gym are beginning to show in Yunho’s chest and arms. They’re full and firm, and Changmin wants to show his appreciation.

 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, hands wrapping around biceps and tracing up and over to scratch down Yunho’s front, watching avidly as Yunho’s stomach jolts beneath the light touch. “I want you to hold me against a wall next time,” Changmin surges up to press himself against the skin, and Yunho’s breathing gets a little less even as Changmin rubs up at him, “Fuck me like that so I can watch your arms and chest work for it.”

 

Yunho groans, and pushes Changmin back against the mattress, pressed flush against the younger man, and grinds their erections together with a breathless noise.

 

They kiss again, messier with mouths slack, as hands push and pull and buttons come undone. Changmin shoves Yunho’s black trousers down, over his hips and wraps his hand around Yunho’s cock, heavy and hard just for him. Yunho’s stops struggling with Changmin’s pants, halts his impatient and fumbling for a moment, and Changmin strokes him again to watch his hyung fight to regain control.

 

Yunho groans and shakes as Changmin strokes him, nice and easy and good, but after a couple of steadying breaths, he manages to undo Changmin’s pants and work them over slim hips. From the corner of his eye, Changmin catches the time, and whines as Yunho continues to pull the fabric over mile-long legs.

 

“Stop,” Changmin gasps, stilling Yunho’s hands over his thighs, the flashing lights of the bedside clock impatient and red, counting down the minutes too quickly. Without thinking, Changmin turns onto his front, pants still tangled above his knees. There’s just barely room, the denim giving enough for Changmin to tuck his legs and jut back against Yunho, the curve of his hips demanding everything he knows Yunho wants to give him,“Like this. No time.”

 

“Oh shit, oh fuck, Changmin,” Yunho groans, hands grabbing at Changmin’s hips and pulling him back to press his cock against Changmin’s ass, precome streaking over the back of Changmin’s thigh.

 

“Quick,” Changmin gasps, pushing back to feel the length press against his skin, flushing as it slides against his entrance before disappearing with Yunho’s hurried curses.

 

The lube is cold like Yunho’s hands.  It’s slick and runs over Changmin’s thighs and balls as Yunho works into him with two fingers, messy and quick. Changmin presses his face into the white linen pillow case beneath him, panting and trying to relax beneath the overwhelming sensation of Yunho stretching him and the way it drives his lust even higher. Three fingers push at his entrance, and Changmin’s had enough.

 

“That’s good - fucking - fuck me now,” his mouth is full of pillow and his hair is sticking to his forehead, but Yunho hears him anyway.

 

“Got you, Changminnie,” Yunho crowds against him, and presses the head of his cock against Changmin’s hole.

 

“I know,” Changmin pushes back and groans as it catches at his entrance. Yunho groans too, and presses forward, sliding all the way in, and Changmin feels split open and loves it.

 

“One minute,” he bargains, knowing they don’t have the time but also knowing he needs it to ground himself.

 

“Yeah,” Yunho agrees, and he’s shaking with concentration, hands unsteady on Changmin’s hips, and thighs pressed hard against the backs of Changmin’s legs.

 

Changmin focuses on Yunho’s hot breath hitting his shoulder, the sharp quick pants warm against his skin, and lets them pull him through the brain-frying pleasure of being taken like this - so rushed and desperate.

 

When he’s ready, instead of saying anything, Changmin arches back, hips rolling down on the cock inside him, wanting Yunho to fuck him _now_.

 

“Changmin,” Yunho growls, voice wrecked and graveled, and the timbre sends shivers across Changmin’s skin before Yunho pulls out and shoves back in, steady and demanding. There’s not energy for fast, enthusiastic screwing today, and Changmin lets the waves of pleasure roll over him with each thrust from Yunho until his arms and legs start to quake.

 

“Yunho, I can’t,” he gasps, trying desperately to stay upright but knowing it’s a lost battle. His knees buckle underneath him

 

“S’okay,” Yunho pulls out, and rips Changmin’s jeans off, ignoring the younger man’s protests. “Like this, it’s easier like this,” and he maneuvers Changmin onto his back. The sheets stick persistently to his skin, the expanse of his back slick with sweat.

 

Yunho parts his thighs again, and settles back against Changmin, pressing their chests together as he slides back in, head resting against Changmin’s shoulder. Changmin sighs as Yunho thrusts into him, slower than before, and wraps his arms around Yunho’s neck, playing with his hair and brushing it from his face.

 

They fuck like that - pressed together, touching each other whenever possible, whispering sweet things, dirty things, honest things on top of the covers in the hot Italian afternoon. Changmin loves having Yunho against him, nose filled with Yunho’s smell and mouth trailing over tanned skin, tongues brushing when they bother to kiss, mouths open and panting. The jet lag pulls the pleasure through them slowly and insistently, sickly sweet like molasses, and Changmin knows he won’t last much longer.

 

He works a hand between their bodies, jerking himself off to the steady rhythm of Yunho’s thrusts. Their chests slide together, and the sound of skin hitting skin is loud in the small room. It drives Changmin closer to the edge as he strokes himself, hearing the way Yunho’s driving into him, how close together they are.

 

“You wanna come?” Yunho asks, hands settling at Changmin’s hips in anticipation.

 

“Yes,” Changmin arches again, “for you. Make me come.”

 

And Yunho never takes a challenge lightly, on stage or in bed, and from some terrifying depth of stubbornness he finds the energy to fuck into Changmin faster, harder, and Changmin moans, loud and impolitely at the feeling of being worked open all over again.

 

“Like that?” Yunho asks, and he would look smug if the clenching of his jaw didn’t give away his own desperation. Changmin tightens around Yunho in response, laughing when Yunho curses him and redoubles his efforts, screwing Changmin into the sheets.

 

Changmin’s orgasm rushes up at him, lapping higher and higher until it wraps around his skull and pulls everything tighter, tighter, too tight. Yunho moans, deep and gasping, and fucks into him once more before stilling and coming, and its enough to snap Changmin in half, back bending as his orgasm tears through him, whiting out everything in his mind except for Yunho’s name.

 

It takes longer than other days before Changmin can move again, satisfaction a heavy weight in his limbs, and Yunho a heavier one on his chest.

 

He glances at the clock as Yunho moves to settle against his side. They have twenty minutes.

 

“Yunho,” Changmin turns to press his lips to the top of Yunho’s head, “we need to go.”

 

“I know.”

 

“That means you need to move.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Yunho.”

 

“Changmin.”

 

“Go get in the shower,” Changmin shoves Yunho away, and watches as he stands slowly from the bed, rumpled and beautiful, long lean lines of his body on perfect display in the afternoon light.

 

“You don’t want to join me?” Yunho tosses a look over his shoulder, stretching his arms up, and Changmin groans at the sight of back muscles twisting and flexing.

 

“Yunho.”

 

“No time,” Yunho laughs and closes the bathroom door. Changmin manages to count to forty before he crawls out of bed, thighs still slick with lube and come, to follow Yunho into the shower.


End file.
